Crow's Fall:True Love Never Dies
by Shadedrow
Summary: he dreams of the one he lost every night, as his days become empty. what would he do for a second chance? for true love never dies.
1. Black feathers in the dust

if anyone is reading strength of the wolf, this is in the same world, just earlier. reviews if anyone wants me to continue this.

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She lay sprawled under him, midnight black hair fanned out behind her like a raven's wing against the emerald of meadow grass. Those ocean eyes, green and blue with traces of grey, stared up at him, not with the fiery fury of justice he deserved, but with trust and genuine affection. Slim, gentle fingers caressed his cheek, traced the curved tattoos that lay from his brow to his jaw. "Troubled, Zev _mio_?" She asked quietly, turning her head to brush a kiss across the pulse in his wrist where his arms braced his torso above hers. He hesitated, and she blinked up at him in that long lashed, almost demure manner that had never failed to get his heart racing.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, closing his amber eyes against the concern in her tone, her gaze, somehow more painful than any of the fury he deserved from her would have been. "I miss you," he whispered, his usual sultry tones near cracking with remorse and grief. Fingers ran through his golden hair, untangling his braids by practiced feel alone, the way she always had given the chance. He sighed, settling his weight back to his knees in the soft grass as he ran experienced hands down her smooth skin, tracing the lines of tattoos and curves by memory alone.

She arched under his hands, curling a palm over his muscled shoulder to pull herself up, pressing her lips against his. The kiss lingered, until he opened his eyes, saw the sudden mischief dance into her gaze before she flipped them. He let her roll him onto the soft grass, pinning him lightly while she nibbled her way down honey tanned skin. "I'm here now," was her reply, and he let himself return the slightly wicked smile she gave him.

She moved lower, and he tipped his head back under the onslaught of sensations. "Rinna, _amore_..." He buried his fingers into the thick, silken wealth of her dark hair, and she grinned up at him, nuzzling against his skin. And, oh that smile, and that wicked mouth of hers…

A boot thudded into his ribs hard enough to make him wheeze, and the meadow vanished, his lover with it. He woke in a thin bedroll near a dying fire, the cold Ferelden wind blowing straight through the leathers he hadn't bothered to remove last night. The wind brought with it the unmistakable scents of damp muddy dog and Alistair's attempt at porridge. "Another dream," he muttered to himself as he rose to salvage what was left of breakfast, "just another dream."

Every night since they had left that cursed tower, he had dreamed of her. She had found him after the warden had broken the fade dream of his training days, when he lay sprawled in emptiness. He had expected anger, insults, reproach, any of the things avenging spirits are supposed to bring. Instead she had merely seated herself next to him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close, whispering sweet, soothing Antivan nothings against his neck. She had stayed until the emptiness had shimmered around them, then vanished with a last kiss to his cheek before the fade had dropped him into the battle with the demon.

And every night since, he had dreamed of her. Always Rinna as she had been, alive, affectionate, full of the wicked mischief he was delighted to encourage. He could almost imagine how it might have been if she had lived, if she had somehow come with him to this dog scented wasteland. His Rinna, gossiping about fashion with the bard and teasing poor Alistair into a fit while being scolded by Wynne. He missed her, he thought, more than he could ever have thought possible. Every now and then, he saw something, heard some humorous tale or argument, and wished he could tell it to her. No one here ever listened to his stories, however ridiculous, or laughed at his wit and jokes. Not like she had. The novelty of traveling, of fighting the blight and doing great things, paled without a like mind to share all of it with.

He dragged the pot of burnt sludge that the chantry boy had attempted to pass off as breakfast to the river, dumping the contents out for whatever wild creatures could stomach it. Considering that even the dog had sniffed at his bowl once and walked away in disgust, he wondered briefly what sort of desperate scavenger would try it. Rinna would have joked about crows being scavengers normally, he thought, and leaned against a large stone wolf statue amid the stony river bank. For a moment, the assassin wished desperately that she was here with him, wished he had a second chance. He set to scrubbing the scorched iron pot a moment later, already cursing himself for that level of weakness. She was dead. Dead at Taliesen's hands, corpse dumped still bleeding into a shallow ditch. And nothing he could do would ever bring her back.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him, and he restrained himself from flinching as an armored hand settled on his hip, the other scruffing at his hair in a gesture probably intended as a form of rough affection. "It's just adorable when you're being domestic," came the drawling comment.

"Ah, my warden. Come to help me deal with your warden brother's culinary disaster?" Zevran asked, forcing his tone into cheery nonchalance.

"It seems you have that well under hand. But if you'd care to take a break…" The tall human asked, eying the elf hungrily.

"I should likely get this done before it finishes congealing into an immovable mass." Zevran deflected, pulling out of reach, unconsciously holding the pot between them like a shield. "And is not the charming Leliana awaiting you back in camp?"

"She always wants to complicate things. Besides, what she doesn't know won't hurt her." Aedan Cousland smiled predatorily at the assassin before him. "I'll be fast about it so you can get back to pot scubbing, Zev."

The warden's tone said order, not request, so Zevran reluctantly allowed himself to be led farther out into the woods, and fell to his knees as a hand worked impatiently at his belt. "I don't suppose you brought any form of oil with you?" he asked diffidently, hoping for some sort of lubrication beyond the usual saliva.

As expected, the warden's only response was a derisive snort. Zevran braced himself, head on his forearms, and focused on relaxing himself enough to prevent actual damage. He hissed a little under his breath at the burn as Aedan entered, at the harsh grip on hips that still wore fingertip bruises from the last session. It was, as the man had promised, fast, at least. He left him there in the dirt with one last thrust and a pat on the head.

Zevran stayed crouched in the dirt, waiting to haul himself painfully back up to his feet until the warden was out of sight. No sense letting him see exactly how much damage had been done. He walked back, most of the visible limp gone by the time reached the river. When he had rinsed as much of the evidence off as he could, he returned to scrubbing. Perhaps it was better he was alone here, he thought with a wince. Given Aedan's proclivities regarding those in vulnerable positions, especially elves, the idea of what the warden would do if Rinna was within his reach as well was disturbing.

"I didn't think it had gotten that burnt," Alistair asked from the edge of camp. "Would you like some help?"

"I've mostly got it now but thank you for the offer." Ah, Alistair. Always the helpful and sweet soul. "I believe I have offered to take on the entirety of the cooking, no?"

"I'm not always that bad at it!" he protested. Zev merely arched one eyebrow at the claim, and Alistair blushed. "I.. Well, um," he searched for a way to change the subject. "Leliana was looking for Aedan earlier, have you seen him?" Zev flinched at the name before carefully schooling himself back to nonchalance.

"He came by to… speak with me not long ago, but I assumed he had returned to camp." Zevran sighed as a thought occurred to him. "Has she checked by Morrigan's little den of solitude?"

"Huh. Why would he be out there with…" Alistair saw the familiar weary must –I- explain- this- look on the assassin's face and blinked. "Oh. Oohhhh. Um, well, I'll go tell her I couldn't find him."

The chantry boy had vanished quickly after that, leaving Zevran to drag the scrubbed pot back to camp and set about a suitable lunch. Aedan had wandered back into camp some time later, unsurprisingly indeed from the direction of the apostate's tent, and announced that they would head further into the forest the next day to search for the Dalish.

Zevran spent the rest of the day trying to subtly keep out of the warden's sight, easy enough as the noble decided to spend his day wrapping the bard around his fingers. The rumors of grey warden stamina fell far short of the real thing, if Aedan's appetites were anything to go by. But then, if he was amusing himself with the ladies, Zevran could actually get something accomplished today without begging a poultice off Wynne.

He had managed to get his armor patched and oiled and was settled next to the fire patiently polishing out the nicks in his daggers when Alistair sat on the log next to him. "Something wrong, my friend?"

"Oh, nothing really. It's just, you know…" Alistair sighed. "How can he do that?"

"I assume by that you mean Aedan and his dalliance with both our charming young female companions." Zevran responded, not bothering to look up from his blades. He caught the reflection of the ex-templar's shy nod in the polish of his newest dagger anyway, and shrugged, wiping the blade down carefully with an oiled cloth. "Short answer? Because he can. Our large noble friend believes he is entiltled to anything he desires. I have dealt with many of his temperament in Antiva. Add warden stamina to his appetites…."

Alistair had gone bright red listening to the explanation. "What can I do about it? I mean… he killed lady Isolde for blood magic, he nearly had the circle annulled after we went through to save everyone, he threatened the reverend mother back in lothering… He's out of control! There has to be something…" Zevran was watching him with a look that hovered somewhere between pain and amusement.

"There are only two ways to deal with charmers like our Aedan. Become scarier or more powerful than they, and force them to listen, or stay out of their way and hope you don't become either an annoyance or a desire to them." Zevran rose, tucking his weapons back into their usual places as he stalked off.

Aedan seated himself next to the assassin at dinner, a giggling bard sprawled over his lap. "Care to join us, Zev?" He asked, his eyes flickering over the elf's polished armor. Leliana protested this idea loudly in a flustered voice, swatting at the warden's shoulder, making him laugh.

Zevran forced an amused smile. "Perhaps another time, my dear warden. I believe I will take myself off to bed early enough to claim one of the tents tonight. The wind is growing chill this time of year." He rose to leave, only to have a large glass bottle pressed into his fingers. "What is this?"

"Bodahn said it was Antivan brandy. Figured you might like it. Consider it a belated feast day present. Or a reward for being a good… companion." Aedan returned his attention to the woman on his lap, the elf forgotten in temporary favor of softer things.

Zevran sighed at the warden's lack of subtlety, but uncorked the bottle enough to sniff the contents. Ahhh. Good antivan brandy, at that. He took a careful sip, letting the flavors play over his tongue. "Good night then, my friends, and may you have as good of dreams as I intend to." He took a larger swallow, and retired to his tent, sipping at the brandy musingly as he waited for sleep.

He dreamed of Antiva, and the tiny apartment Rinna and he had shared before her death. She was curled, seemingly asleep under a thin blanket on their bed, the light through the curtained window playing over the tattoos on her face. He carefully shed his armor and arranged himself next to her, tracing the inked butterfly shaped mask across her cheekbones and eyes with feather light touches.

"mmmm? Back already, Zev_ mio_?" she slid out of sleep with deliberate slowness, leaning back into him.

"_Si, amore_." He kissed along her neck, pushing the long silken mass of her hair out of the way. "I have missed you, my pretty minx."

"Good," she laughed, then turned back to him, running her fingers through his hair as she kissed him. "I've missed you too, Zev." She admitted quietly, when they paused for air.

He kissed her again, then settled his weight above her. "Ahh, _Bella_, but let me show you just how much I have missed you."

An Antivan night passed far too swiftly, remembering and relearning the joys found with his lover. The golden light of early morning slitted through the windows, finding them curled happily together, Rinna's head pillowed on his shoulder. "Zev_ mio_?" she asked sleepily, snuggling even closer.

"Yes? What is it, minx?"

"Even if you don't care, it was still true. You know that, right?"

Before he could think of an answer, he woke, to a barking mabari and a cold Ferelden dawn.


	2. Daring to dream

They headed out into the forest once everyone had been roused. Zev trailed behind, still thinking of his dreams. Somehow, lately, his dreams had seemed more real than his waking hours. Aedan strode past him, stalling long enough to grope him and ruffle his hair with the same affection he showered on the dog, as usual. Zev found he couldn't even muster the energy to flinch.

All he wanted was the day to be over, for the night to come so he could go back to sleep, go back to his Rinna. Each night she seemed more real, more there. The endless cold and blowing wind of his waking hours had taken on a nightmarish quality, with only the cheerful chatter of the Templar and bard giving him something to focus on besides the notion of being warm.

It seemed like a wish come true, as they came around a corner and found a small campsite. There was a warm fire blazing, with thick padded bedrolls and a sturdy woolen tent. He could smell the spiced soup simmering in the fire, right next to a boiling kettle of fragrant herbal tea. His companions seemed as delighted as he was, settling themselves down for a restful break. It was nearly dinnertime already anyhow, so why not just stay here? He seated himself across from the wardens, and felt his eyelids go heavy the moment he did. Apparently the cold had taken more out of him than he had thought. Perhaps he would deal with the soup and such after a nice nap.

Rinna was curled in her favorite cushioned window seat, staring pensively out at the street below. "Something caught your interest, _bella mio_?" he asked into the quiet of the room, and watched her start violently, nearly falling from her perch. She slammed the shutters shut and spun to meet him.

"You shouldn't be here. Not now!" she hissed, obviously worried. She scurried to push him back at the door, growling as he planted his feet, easily holding off the much smaller elf.

"Rinna? What is wrong? Have I…" He started to ask, but she shook her head, eyes frightened as she bit at her lip.

"We'll talk tonight, my love. Right now, you have to wake up, unless you never want to wake up again."

"Would that be so bad?" He asked, thumb brushing away a tear as he cupped her cheek with one hand. "If I could stay here with you…"

"I would rather you alive and there than dead and here, Zevran! Now wake up, please, before…" Something roared outside the door, and pain lanced through his side, the ribs audibly cracking. Rinna cursed like a dockhand, and shoved him at the opening door. "Get out of here before the demon finds a way in!

He grabbed at her to keep his balance as he stumbled back, collapsing against the doorframe as a bleeding welt opened along his scalp. She froze at the threshold, staring at something he couldn't see. "And if I leave now, will it stay away from here?" he asked, even as claws pierced though the thin wooden shutters. "Would you be safe here alone?"

She glanced back at the splintering shutters, and gave him a sad, almost wistful smile. "It doesn't matter. Just go, Zev, while you can." He could hear wolves howling, feel unseen claws rake just over his skin, and clung tighter to the doorframe and her thin wrist.

"I won't leave you to face it alone, _amore_." He told her, wincing at the pain in his ribs. She cursed at him, trying to pry herself from his grasp.

"Idiot." She growled, an affectionate tone to her voice despite her anger. She shot a quick glance back at the window and through the door, and sighed. "Fine, then." She gritted her teeth and wrapped her fingers around his forearm before hurling them both through the dark doorway.

It was cold, and his ribs and head ached. The demon lashed out at him again, but this time never landed, a lithe black and white furred form leapt over him with a defiant snarl and sinking ivory fangs into the offending limb. The demon stumbled back, trying to pry the dog off its wrist, finally flinging it back off. The wolflike dog landed neatly on all fours between him and the threat, snarling. "**_Do not think to touch what is mine, demon_**," Rinna's voice, with all the cold fury she was capable of, echoed in the back of his mind.

The assassin scrambled to his feet as best he could, one arm wrapped around his side awkwardly. The patches of the long eared Antivan shepard's long furred coat followed the pattern of her tattoos, he noted, even as he drew his blade. She lunged forward, slashing at the demon's legs with sharp fangs before dancing back out of it's reach. A shield bash drew it's attention to the Templar long enough for her to sink her teeth into a leg, deep and fast enough to sever the hamstrings. But not fast enough to evade the reflex kick backwards. She hit the log at the edge of the clearing with a startled yelp and a string of mental curses.

Alistair had the hobbled demon in hand, Zev noted, and spun out of the way of a charging wolf, dragging his knife along a furred side. Hissing at the pain of the movement, he drew his other blade as well, stabbing through to vital organs before the yellowed fangs could reach his throat. As he pulled his blades back, a black and white blur slammed into the wolf trying to get him from, behind, a fierce "_**oh, no you don't**!_" his only warning. She stood pressed against the back of his legs for a moment as she eyed the circling wolves warily, snarling protectively. The largest of the wolves, a rough black coated brute, snarled back for a moment before turning his back and stalking off, the others falling in step behind him.

At the other end of the camp, Leliana and Aedan rose unsteadily to their feet, staring at the fallen demon and the departing wolves. " What happened? How did we.." the bard started to ask, as the Mabari and shepard gave each other cursory sniffs.

"We…" Zev announced cheerfully, as Alistair looked between him and the shepard dog carefully, "Are ridiculously awesome."

"I suppose we are." Aeden laughed. The herd dog sitting next to his mabari Dane stretched, showing her sharp white fangs in a careless yawn before shaking drops of demon blood from her long fur. "Well, and aren't you a pretty little thing? I've never seen a dog quite like you before." He extended a hand for her to sniff and reached out to pat her head, only for her to put her ears back and retreat behind Zevran's legs.

"She's an Antivan shepard. Common enough out in the provinces with the herders, occasionally kept by merchants as guarders." Zev answered cautiously, eying the wary look on Alistair's face as carefully as he did the sulky look on Aeden's. Rinna whined, a worried "**_Zev-mio_**?"whispering in the back of his mind, and he stroked a reassuring hand over her ears.

"And just where did your new friend come from? I'll admit she was rather handy just now, but…"

"She showed up while you were out cold." Alistair chimed in with a quick look at the assassin. "Zev was swearing pretty loudly in Antivan when the demon swiped him, and she came charging in to protect him. I think she's been wandering alone for a while, poor thing, and decided he was the closest thing to whoever she lost."

"Well, she certainly seems to have become attached to you, and Dane doesn't seem to mind her. As long as she doesn't cause trouble, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to let you keep her." Aeden shrugged, offering Leliana a supporting arm up. "with everyone a little scuffed up by that disturbance, we might as well stay here long enough to rest and have some dinner.

"I suppose we should go get some wood for the fire then, right Zevran?"Alistair asked in the same patently cheerful voice he had used to lie to Aedan a moment before. Zev winced, holding his clawmarked arm against his side, and the former Templar gave him a pointed look. "I saw some way over that way."

The moment the warden and crow were out of earshot of the impromptu camp, Alistair pointed an accusing finger at the herd dog sitting quietly at Zev's feet. "That is not a dog. When you woke up, one of the wolves glowed, yelped, and turned into that."

"**_The overgrown puppy is smarter than your nighttime stories led me to believe, Zev mio_**." Rinna mused, even as she arranged herself between the potential threat and her lover. Zev snorted quietly, and turned a measuring gaze on the former Templar.

"I had wondered how she came to be in that particular form. But tell me, friend Alistair, why didn't you share this version of the fight with our beloved leader?"

"Because she did protect you. Because… Because the moment you got a good look at her, you smiled like you haven't since Aedan started going off with you alone. What is she?"

"Someone entirely too forgiving for her own good, who does however owe me a bit of an explanation." Even as he said it, he ran a soothing hand over a furred head.

"**_I will tell you what I know of the manner of my return, if you fully explain why the other warden smells of your blood_**." Was the answer from the dog at his feet, with an apologetic nudge at his hand when he stiffened. "**_I came back with you because you refused to return alone, and the trickster offered me a new body of sorts. Something about you making an ill-worded wish_**." With a last affectionate nuzzle at the hand that had frozen above her head, she took a few wary steps toward Alistair, who gravely extended a hand for her to sniff.

"Well, she doesn't seem much like a demon…" the human cautiously stated, patting the dog's head briefly before she settled back at Zevran's feet, glancing between the two with an amused wag of her plume d tail.

"_**mmm? True enough, although I remember a time or two you referred to me as nearly a desire demon…**._"

Zev laughed, but shook a finger at her. "Not helpful, Rinna." She let her ears fall into a contrite position and nuzzled at his hands again, without ending the amused wag of her tail.

"**_If what half the trickster told me is true, you are the only one who can hear me in this form anyway. Tell the puppy I have no intention of possessing anyone but my current form, and no desire to harm anyone who hasn't hurt you, or intends to_**." She paused, giving a cursory lick at a mud spattered paw as Zev relayed that to the warden. "**_Although, I would love to hear a benign explanation for the other warden, the one in the tent with the giggly bard_**."

"I swore an oath to serve him, without reservation. I will not break that oath," Zev informed her, watching her ears flick back before she resignedly settled her head back down on her paws. "Not yet, at least."

"I'm getting the distinct impression I'm missing half the conversation. You two aren't talking about me, are you?"

"No, friend Alistair, not this time. So. With what little I can explain of my 'not a dog', will you allow her to remain with us without mentioning any of this to any of the rest of our little fellowship?"


	3. Chapter 3

"I… I won't tell anyone else of this. Provided she doesn't do anything demony or abominationish, of course." Alistair answered after a long, thoughtful pause. Rinna gave a mildly offended sniff at the notion of acting demony, but relaxed, resting her chin on the top of Zevran's mud soaked boot. "Besides, who could I tell? Sten won't actually speak to anyone except to answer a direct question, Morrigan hates me, and Wynne and Leliana treat me like a child. You're the only one who even pretends to take me seriously."

"They treat you as a child because that is how you act, my friend. And it is a very clever subterfuge, your incompetence. Much safer for a bastard prince to be viewed as no real threat to anyone, I'd imagine. And after long enough, pretending near incompetence in anything but straightforward combat becomes as much a habit as breathing. "

"I don't… I… well…." The former Templar looked nervous, then embarrassed. He sat down heavily on a fallen log, the crow settling himself carefully at the other end a moment later, arm carefully wrapped around his side. "At redcliffe, I was always told I was never to put myself forward or stand out, and keeping to mediocrity in something I hated as much as Templar training was easy. Duncan was the only one to ever act like I was worth anything, and then… How did you… How long have you known?"

"For someone with my training, it is as obvious as if you screamed it to the sky." Zevran winced, and a furry form slid between them, positioning herself as support. "Not mind you, that I would recommend giving up that particular habit at this time, all things considered. I, personally, sleep better with the thought that Aedan does not think of me as a threat."

"Aedan wouldn't… we're wardens, and he…"

"Believe what you would like. Just be careful, my large friend." The elf sighed, then winced again. The herd dog nudged him firmly into a position less potentially injurious to his ribs, sliding off the log to stare at him with one of the pointed glares she had always favored, ocean eyes going a stormy grey.

"**If this is quite settled, remind the puppy you have badly cracked ribs and still bleeding cuts that need to be dealt with, and you can finish the conversation after seeing the healer you mentioned. And he is doing all the firewood gathering, because I'm not letting you puncture a lung for the sake of versimilitude."**

"Why exactly do you keep referring to him as a puppy?" Zev asked, amused at the mix of annoyance and concern in her tone. Next to him, Alistair looked confused, then mildly offended.

"**Because he is one. Healer, Zev-mio. As soon as possible."**

Zevran dragged himself back to his feet, bracing an arm against a nearby sapling as his injured ribs screamed at him. Rinna watched him worriedly, her ears flicking back and a whine rumbling in her throat with every subtle flinch, every sharp inhalation. Alistair rose, clumsily trying to tug Zev the rest of the way back to his feet, only for his overeager yank to start the half hidden slashes along the elf's upper arm bleeding again, as his ribs shifted and his breathing harshened. She snarled, whirling on the former Templar with bared teeth.

"Rinna, enough." Zev hissed through gritted teeth, and she stopped her lunge, fangs snapping just short of Alistair's flesh. "He didn't mean to hurt me," he added, as he forced his breathing to settle, leaning more heavily against the tree. She pressed a cold nose against his leg, still glaring at the human, and slunk off into the underbrush.

"Rinna? Pretty name." Alistair asked, looking warily after the grumbling canine. "What is she, Zevran? Or…what was she, at least to you?"

"Another Crow. Rhiannon Devaroi was her full name. A friend, a partner in crime, a lover. One of the few I could trust to have my back, before… Before I made the greatest mistake of my life." He hesitated, as Rinna slunk back into sight long enough to drop a mouthful of sticks at Alistair's feet. The Templar gathered them up, a sympathetic expression on his face. "I trusted the wrong information, and it ended with her dead."

"Regret from the eternally suave assassin?" Alistair asked, trying for a light tone. Something entirely too close to honest pain flickered in the amber eyes watching him, and he wished he could take back the joke. He scrambled to collect more fallen branches, looking anywhere but back at the closest thing he had to a friend. When the silence between them had deepened past all bearing, he risked a quick glance back up.

Zevran was still leaning heavily against the rough bark, watching the dog weaving a graceful way back through the undergrowth. He still had that look in his eyes, a guilt and sorrow tinged mix of aching regret and suppressed hope. "I'm sorry." Alistair apologized quietly, and Zevran looked up at him again. His expression had gone hard again, back into the mask of an emotionless assassin. The dog- Rinna- was looking between them with an exasperated air, before pointedly brushing past them to grab a larger fallen branch. Zev's eyes went momentarily distant, listening, before he sighed and followed her onto the trail back to camp.

"She's nagging me about going to see Wynne again." He chuckled as Alistair joined him with an armload of firewood. "She always did fuss when I got myself hurt."

"You are bleeding rather evidently. Now that I know there seems to be an actual person behind the constant flirting and arrogance, I'm worried about you too. I've got the wood, you go see Wynne before I start nagging you."

"A fearful threat, indeed, hmm?" the elf remarked, but split obediantly off towards the tent Wynne had claimed. Rinna brushed by him again, still dragging an overlarge branch.

"**See? Clumsy puppy, trying to make friends. Play nice, beloved, and don't annoy the healer before she fixes you." **She gave him a smug look over her shoulder as she pulled the branch over to the pile the Templar had started.


End file.
